Sink
slowly sun, we need your last, long light
Now,
more than ever. Harrowed is the night
And
long beliefs lie shattered like the glass.
Fragile
our kingdom is, more than we ken.
Fragile,
alike, the peace we trusted then;
And
jagged pain has rent our coverings.
Flowers
bedeck, we know no other gift
For
pity to lay forth in sorrow’s rift:
And
fumbling fingers lay them patiently.
And
tears flow easily, a hidden stream
With
which to wash our trampled, bloodied dream.
Hands
clasp, for hope does not so simply die.
And
Christmas lights shine out across the land
Mirroring
what we barely understand
Dark
night, dim faith, but ah! the angels sing!
Peace and goodwill sound like an empty tale.
How could a newborn baby here prevail
Against the madness when the beasts run wild?
Yet “Hallelujah” still the ages the sing
The while we tramp round history’s land-mined ring
And the eternal stars weep down on us.
The sun shall rise till suns shall rise no more.
No sun, no moon, no tears, no death, no war
Shall drag us back. The promise is so sure.
1 comment:
Amen. Maybe there's something special in laying a flower, in laying something of a promise, of the day the doors will never again close.
Beautiful.
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